


Living La Vida Nonloca

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Danny arrives home two hours earlier than expected and hears something disturbing





	Living La Vida Nonloca

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Living La Vida Nonloca

CJ/Danny, mentions of others

G-rated

Through “Tomorrow”

Not mine, never will be, but they consume my soul

Feedback and criticism always welcomed

This started out as the first part of a chapter about CJ and Danny at Big Sur; it is now one of three or four chapters

Thanks to kel288 for her input re the true nickname of the school in San Luis Obispo

Santa Monica, CA mid-January 2008

\------------------------------------------------------  
Danny pulled into the driveway and sighed. He had just spent two hectic days in New York at the main office of his publisher, getting to know the woman who would be shepherding his latest book through the publishing process. He had managed to get his flight home switched to a non-stop rather than changing planes in Dallas, but it had been a last minute change and he didn’t have time to call home before the flight boarded. Then the Air-Fone service went out and he was unable to let his wife know that he would be home two hours earlier than expected.

Letting himself in the house, he was at first startled and then curious as he heard his wife giggling in the bedroom.

“That tickles!” she exclaimed.

The reply was mumbled and not understandable, but the voice was definitely male.

“It is okay if I press in here?” This voice was clearer, and female.

He dropped his laptop case and carryon. “Ah, CJ?” he asked, rather loudly, with some doubt creeping into his voice.

“Oh, shit! He’s back early! Danny, I wanted to keep this from you, but I guess you better get in here.”

He had already reached the bedroom door by the time she finished talking. She was in the center of the room. On her right side, Hank from next door was kneeling, removing a bunch of pins from his mouth. On the left, Diana from two doors up on the other side was working with pins on some sort of tomato shaped thing on her wrist.

CJ had on a half-sewn together dress. It was the dress she wore to the Indonesian state dinner the first year of the Bartlet administration, but it wasn’t that dress. The color was the same, but the top was different. Instead of coming up high at the neck, it was one of those one-shouldered tops, and instead of fitting in at her waist, there were what looked to be lots of tiny pleats that were stitched down to under her bust line but above where her waist normally was(he later found out it was called "pin tucking"). Some of the pleats were longer than the others, in sort of a random pattern.

“It’s the dress, but it’s not the dress,” was all he could say.

His mouth free of the pins, Hank looked at him. “I tried to get it to work, Danny, but that high neckline needed the bodice to drape down to a fitted, natural waistline, and a fairly straight line skirt. If we try to put the fullness she needs with it, it looks like the uniforms worn in a women’s prison in a Lifetime Movie Network disaster.” Hank worked in the costume department of one of the studios in LA.

“That looks nice,” Danny replied, a little uncertain about what was going on. He noticed a couple of unopened beers and sodas on the table. “Those drinks for anybody?”

“Take one,” Diana said. “We’re fine and our hands are busy anyway.”

So Danny opened a beer, sat down, and watched as Hank and Diana folded and pinned the top of the dress to fit CJ. He thought that he was enacting a middle-class version of one of those movies where the rich man about town takes his wife (or mistress) to the fancy dress shop and drinks champagne while the people fuss with fabrics and stuff.

“When you told me how much you liked that dress, I wanted to surprise you,” CJ told him. “If I had known before, I would have taken it with me to Scotland, worn it in Dublin, instead of that black crepe and chiffon palazzo pants with white blouse thing.”

“Nothing wrong with a nice pair of black crepe and chiffon palazzo pants,” Hank interrupted.

“Anyway, I did need something for that thing in San Francisco next month and since we’re bartering, it’s only the cost of the fabric and the other things.”

“CJ’s going to give a couple of lectures to my classes and arrange for some special tours for the senior class trip to Washington.” Diana taught high school social studies. Her tailoring talents were more of a hobby now.

“And **you** ,” Hank pointed to him, “will be helping Steve and me when we replace the kitchen cabinets and countertops in March.”

“And other than the envy of all the other men at the gala, what do I get out of this?” he asked his wife.

“We can negotiate that in private.”

They had finished the pinning. CJ looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s going to be great, guys. I guess there’s nothing to do about the way my butt’s starting to fill out,” she said.

Diana laughed. “You need the weight back there to help you balance the weight in front. After three, you learn. It will go away after if you eat right; mine did.

Hank stood up and started playing with CJ’s hair. “Pin it up loosely, kind of like you just got out of bed and had a good time there. And smudge your eye shadow. Give them something to wonder about. You’ll need lots of stones at your neck, a bracelet, some drop earrings.”

“I’ve got my pearls,” she said.

“No, the pearls are too warm, too creamy. You need something cool, icy with this grey. Maybe some matching combs for your hair.”

“Yeah, remember, I’m not one of your starlets who can borrow stuff from Harry Winston or Tiffany. I’ve got some white gold and silver pendants and chains that might work.”

Diana draped a capelet over her shoulders. “We’ll line this, of course, maybe even put a thin layer of wool inside, keep you a little warmer.”

“Okay. Diana, help me out of this. Guys, scoot.”

Danny and Hank went over to the kitchen.

“Hank, what should I get her, jewelry wise? I don’t know what would be right, but from what you said, those chains wouldn’t be enough and this is going to be -“

The other man interrupted him. “Violet, set in silver,” he said. Then, looking off in the distance, half to himself, “iolite. A marquise cut tennis necklace, maybe 15 inches, to reach just to the hollow in her neck. Matching bracelet, of course. No more than three stone dangle on the earrings, especially if we get jeweled combs for her hair.” He looked back at Danny, smiling. “The stones, the iolite, aren’t that expensive; of course, we’re probably talking sixty or seventy carats total, so it will add up some, but it’s silver, not gold. If we can’t find it in iolite, we’ll get amethyst, I’ll start calling around.” The man began to walk out the door, turned around. “I’ll have Diana line the cape in violet silk.”

CJ and Diana came out of the bedroom. Diana was carrying a large garment bag. “I’ll have this done by the middle of next week,” she said. “Let’s hope those boobs don’t grow much before the event. Oh, did you hear? The Mattock kids finally agreed on Bert’s estate and the house will be listed next week.”

“I miss Bert,” Danny said. “He had a lot of good stories about the blacklist era.”

They continued to discuss the man who had lived between them until he died two months ago. Then Diana said she had a hungry family to feed and left to think about what to defrost.

“Come here, you,” she said, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him. “You looked a little freaked when you first saw the dress. Is it okay? Andi offered to send me one of hers from the twins, it’s tea length but I would have had to make it cocktail length and then I would have needed spikes, and this way, I can wear something more comfortable on my feet –“.

“The dress is going to be great.” His arms went around her waist, such as it was. He kissed her forehead, then her nose. “It’s just that when I walked in and heard you giggling and a man’s voice coming from our bedroom, and then a woman wanting to press, and then you swearing and saying something about trying to keep something from me –“.

The implications of what he was saying dawned on her. “Danny, you thought that I was – with Hank and Diana, with someone other than you?” Her eyes started to widen.

“No, not with my brain and not with my heart, well, maybe just a little with my fragile male id, and I didn’t recognize the voices,” he laughed, hugging her tighter.

She pulled back, rubbed his nose with hers. “Silly, silly Danny,” she laughed.

He smiled. “Yeah, I guess I am. I am also in dire need of a shower.” He broke away, grabbed his overnight bag, and taking her hand in his other hand, pulled her toward the bedroom.

When he got out of the bathroom, she was asleep on the bed. She was catnapping quite a bit lately. He put on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt and balanced himself on the bed beside her. She woke up, stretched, and moved over to give him more room. “So tell me about New York?”

“Things look okay. The editor they’ve assigned to me seems to know what she’s doing. Also, they’re looking into doing Leo’s biography and Mallory asked them to have me do it. I don’t know if they’re willing to wait until this one’s done. Jim Rector from the _LA Times_ called, they want me to do an Op-Ed column twice a month; there’d be syndication involved, so the money would be good. They’d give me a cubicle, but I wouldn’t have to go in, I could write from here, or anywhere there’s a ‘Net hookup. Of course, it would give me a chance to show off the picture you had done for me.” For one of his Christmas presents, she had taken his favorite wedding shot of her (the full body one where the photographer had her stare off into the distance, focusing somewhere behind the camera, her arms folded on one of the wider planter stands, her lilies lying between her arms and her body) and had a sepia print made. He liked it so much that he had the guy make a small copy for his wallet. “Toby was in the throes of the new semester starting, but we did get to meet for beer and steamed shrimp last night.”

“The Hollis Foundation board of directors meeting has been scheduled for next month in San Luis Obispo,” she told him. The foundation headquarters were there attached to Cal Poly, Hollis’ alma mater. “Our office here is moving in two weeks, still on the UCLA campus, but a bit closer to here. Nancy is ironing out the details. Thank God that Franklin Hollis is whole hog into all this virtual office technology he helped invent; it’s making everything so – doable.”

It was funny the way things were working out for the former West Wing staffers.

Matt Santos recognized what a valuable asset Margaret was to the running of the White House and now she was functioning as Executive Associate to Josh and Sam.

Carol was now Josh’s administrative assistant. CJ had offered Carol a blank check (within Hollis Foundation guidelines) to come to California, but in the closing months of the Bartlet administration, Carol had found a guy, a career staffer in the State Department working the eastern European desk, and CJ didn’t blame her for wanting her chance at happiness. 

For some reason, Sam and Rina, who used to work for Toby, developed a real working rapport and she was now his administrative assistant.

Matt Skinner, of all people, fixed up Ginger with a congressman from New Jersey, a widower with three kids from an “old money” family. Now Ginger was throwing herself into step-motherhood with the same zeal that she had in the Communications bullpen.

Cathy, who used to work for Sam, got divorced and came back, looking for a job. She was now helping Donna.

Nancy had moved back to Malibu to be with her parents and CJ had hired her to assist her in Santa Monica. For some arcane legal reason and because of some zoning ordinances in their neighborhood, they needed to have an official “office” somewhere else, but there would be no problem with Nancy coming to the house and the two of them working from there when CJ’s pregnancy and impending new motherhood made it advisable.

The big surprise was Bonnie. Mid-western, Indiana native Bonnie had no qualms about picking herself up and moving out west to work with CJ, not in the relative security of CJ’s offices with at least a couple of people she knew, but as her liaison in the Hollis Foundation headquarters in San Luis Obispo. She was doing an excellent job and kept CJ from having to make too many trips up there. It was only a couple of hours’ drive, but the way Danny got all 19th century about her traveling, Bonnie was a godsend. And according to Sarita Hollis, she had caught the eye of the 40-something bachelor drop-dead gorgeous chair of the French department from Quebec City.

“Anything from Pete?” Danny asked about the general contractor who was overseeing their renovations.

“Actually, yes, he’d like to get the rest of the addition roughed in, roofed, and framed over the next three or four weeks. It would be hell for us now, but then things would go much better through the rest of this journey to May.” She put her hand on her expanding stomach. “Oh, remember, we have Anne Westin’s debut as a prostitute and Angelette on Friday.”

“So it’s the stage version and not the movie one?”

“Yes, you’ll get to hear ‘Twenty-four Hours of Loving’. I understand that the girl who plays Jewel is something to hear.”

He noticed a big pile of clothing on the edge of the bed. None of it looked familiar. “What’s all that?” he asked.

“It’s some tops and shorts that Diana is lending me,” she replied. “I can’t wear her dresses or pants or skirts, but these work fine.”

He put a hand under her chin, turned her face to him. “CJ, are we having money issues? I mean, you’re getting a homemade dress for the gala, getting hand-me-downs from the neighbors, almost took a dress from Andi. Look, Jim wanted me to do a column a week, but settled for two a month. I can tell them I changed my mind, I can do Leo’s book at the same time.”

“First of all, my ‘homemade dress’ has been custom designed by a Hollywood studio designer and is being sewn by someone who worked her way through college and grad school sewing wedding dresses and prom dresses for LA society. And the clothes aren’t hand-me-downs, they’re a loan. Diana wants them back when I’m done. She and Frank are planning to start number four in 15 months. The dress that Andi was going to give me, she got from someone who played for the Mystics. In fact, she had to cut it down. If she had been a little taller, I’d be wearing more of them. Maybe I should call someone with the Sparks, see if anyone has anything I can borrow – okay, can that idea.” She saw his face and forestalled his objections. “But, Danny, this is what women do. And the budget is fine. All the clumping is working out.”

“Clumping?”

“It’s kind of the way I look at things, money wise. Frank’s company has great benefits, so we’re fine with medical, dental, eyes, that sort of thing. I’ll get three months’ paid leave after the kids are born. What we got from the sale of my place here and the condo in DC basically covered the initial cost of this place. My take home covers the food, the utilities, and our incidental stuff. Your Pulitzer money is covering the expansion and your advances are covering the splurges. This new stuff can go into the emergency fund. Of course, it’s really ours, not yours or mine; it’s just easier to think that way for allocating it. Right now, we’re in better shape than most upper middle-class DINKs, not that we’ll be DINKs for long.”

“Okay.” He kissed her on the side of her head. “But just look at you. About a year ago, you thought you couldn’t do this and look at you now. You are so good at this.”

“We both are. We’re exchanging favors with neighbors, doing things with them, partying with them, dealing in a barter economy. We’ve got jobs that aren’t requiring all of our lifeblood and time. I’ve had more sex and better sex in the past year than I had in the past twenty-five. I’ve got in-laws, two more nieces besides Hogan to be cool with, I’m going to be a mom, and best of all, I’ve got you. It just feels so , so –“

“Normal?” he suggested.

“Yeah, normal.”

“Me, too. You know, things are going to get hectic in three months or so – “

“Ya think?”

“Smart mouth.” He lifted the hand on her hip, let it drop with a light slap. “Pete wants to tear up the house for three or four weeks. Nancy will be moving your offices. We have an affair in San Francisco in two weeks, you have a board meeting at Cal Poly ten days after that. After the thing at UCLA, why don’t we take off for about a month, shoot up I-5 to Mt. Shasta, then go over to the coast and drive down slowly, stop here and there for a couple of days, time it around the two things, spend a day or two with your brother?”

“We’d have our phones and our laptops. Diana could send the dress to Napa. We could pay their oldest to take care of Gail. Might be nice to get in some down time before everything turns loco. Let me check with the doctor, but if he says it’s okay, let’s do it. Now let me nap for an hour or so. Unless you’re hungry now?”

“I can wait. Do you want to go out to eat?”

“No,” she yawned. “I’ve got dinner covered.”

“Yeah?”

“Flank steak and asparagus on the grill, steamed corn on the cob, sliced tomatoes, chocolate mousse.”

“Living la vida nonloca,” he sighed, as they both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
